


If Only I Could Be Yours (And You Could Be Mine)

by A_Butter_Churner



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Comedy, Everyone Is Gay, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, Letters, Light Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining Combeferre, Pining Courfeyrac, Pining Grantaire (Les Misérables), Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, Sorry I had to make something sad hehehe, Sort Of, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, courferre, enjoltaire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Butter_Churner/pseuds/A_Butter_Churner
Summary: Miguel Courfeyrac is an American student who sucks at French, and now has a French pen-pal. Yay.Taran Combeferre is a French student who sucks at human interaction, and now has an American pen-pal. Yay.We'll see what comes of this.
Relationships: Combeferre & Enjolras (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac & Grantaire (Les Misérables), Courfeyrac/Azelma Thénardier, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s), brief - Relationship
Comments: 142
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Get_below_my_line_of_vision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/gifts).



> This is for Get_below_my_line_of_vision because I owe them something. I owe them something nice. So here! Have some courferre and enjoltaire. Ilysm!

“Bonjour Periot Trois!” Madame Rousseau’s lilting voice carried through the classroom. Courfeyrac was slumped against the table, chin in his hand. He was drumming his number two pencil on the desk in front of him.

He usually loved school. He was the social butterfly of sixth grade and got satisfactory grades in all of his classes. All of his classes except French. Apparently, his dad was descended from some French dudes which obligated him into taking French class and learning the language (read: his parents guilted him into it.)

Courfeyrac turned around and craned his neck to whisper to his best friend of 5 years, Xavier Grantaire.

“Psst.” He hissed.

Xavier looked up, locking his icy blue eyes with Courfeyrac. “Did you break your neck just to hiss at me?”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna _die_ in this class, bro. I should’ve just taken Spanish.”

Xavier’s brow furrowed. “Your mom is Venezuelan and you’re already fluent.”

“Exactly! Easy ‘A’!”

Xavier looked up and leaned in conspiratorially, “Don’t look now, but Madame is giving you the stink-eye.”

Because he is such a great listener, Courf looks up to see their teacher very clearly glaring at him.

“Okay, class. Today we have a very exciting opportunity! I have coordinated with a teacher in Paris, France and we are going to help the kids there with their English by writing them some letters! I will give you your pen-pals and you can start, okay?”

The class nodded and Courfeyrac leaned back in his seat. Pen-pals? With some French kid? Great, just great. At least he got to write in English.

“Miguel? Xavier?” Courfeyrac shot up when he heard his name get called, glancing nervously at his friend who simply shrugged. The two of them traipsed cautiously as if tiptoeing around a sleeping lion.

Madame Rousseau glared at them, her wrinkles appearing ever more prominent. “Boys, I know you both have trouble paying attention in my class. So, for your pen-pals, I am assigning you to the smartest boys at the Parisian school. Maybe after corresponding with them, you may feel more motivated to work on your classwork!”

_I doubt it,_ Courfeyrac thought privately.

“Good. Now Miguel, your pen-pal is named Taran Combeferre and Xavier, yours is Antoine Enjolras.”

The two of them were sent back to their seats and on the way, Xavier whispered in Courf’s ear, “I can’t wait to write to ‘Antoine the pretentious asshole’”.

Snickering, Courfeyrac plopped down in his seat and tapped his chin thinking of what to write.

_Dear Monsieur Combeferre…_


	2. Chapter 2

Combeferre was nervous about the whole pen-pal thing. When he had asked if he could opt out of it, his teacher had merely told him that it would help with his self-confidence and in talking to people.

If you asked him, he didn’t need self-confidence. He had Enjolras, and that was more than enough. He also didn’t need to talk to people. He had Enjolras, and again, that was more than enough.

So when his teacher announced that the first letters from the American students had arrived, he was a little apprehensive and expected the worst.

His teacher stepped up to him with a smile on his face and handed him an envelope. It was bright yellow and had glue stains on the front. Something about it made Combeferre grin widely, chasing away his apprehensions.

The rest of the class was to be spent reading their letters, so Combeferre took his place by Enjolras’s as they teared open their envelopes.

Enjolras frowned at the dark green envelope in his hand.

“What’s wrong?” Combeferre inquired.

Enjolras leaned over to show him the envelope.

“I guess I can tell who we’re dealing with here. The kind of kid who draws dicks on an envelope.”

Combeferre shook his head and chuckled as his friend opened the envelope with the phallic image before turning his attention back to the letter in his hand.

_Dear Monsieur Combeferre,_

_Bonjour!_

_That’s it. That’s the extent of my French. I suck at French. You know what also sucks? French. Wait, you’re French. Poop. Feel free to ignore that last statement._

_So, hi. I’m Miguel. Some people call me Courfeyrac. I don’t know which one I prefer because both are a part of my heritage. I’m Latino on my mom’s side (hence Miguel) and French on my dad’s side (hence my last name)._

_I honestly have no clue what to write about._

_Do you like chickens? I think chickens are evil. I like pigeons though. They’re really tough. Also frogs. Frogs are cool too. I don’t get why people like dragons so much though. They’re just big lizards._

_I would like to know your opinion on chickens. It is a very current, important topic and your opinion will better our nation. I mean, both of our nations._

_Also, what’s your favorite color? Mine’s yellow._

_Sincerely,_

_Miguel Courfeyrac_

“‘Ferre! Earth to Ferre?” Enjolras was waving a hand in front of his face.

“Yeah?” Combeferre shook himself and smiled at his friend. “What’s up?”

“Well I just called a pretentious asshole by some American bastard, so I’m pissed. What’s your kid like?”

Combeferre glanced down at the letter and smiled. “Miguel Courfeyrac is one weird kid.”

That night, Combeferre pinned the envelope against his bulletin board. Maybe making a new friend wouldn’t be so bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok! I know I just started this yesterday, but I'm having so much fun writing this. Updates should be frequent because the chapters are a lot shorter than my usual writing is. So stay tuned!

“Dude, if you reread that stupid letter one more time I’m going to fold it up in to _un avion_ and say ‘Au revoir’ before you can say ‘I’m in love with a French nerd boy’.” Xavier was lying on Courfeyrac’s bed, chucking pieces of foam at his best friend’s head.

Courfeyrac was sprawled on the ground poring over his first letter from his pen-pal. He turned to face his friend, sticking out his lower lip in an adamant pout. “I can’t help it! He’s so nice! Unlike you.”

Another piece of foam.

“I rest my case. I have never felt so betrayed.” Courfeyrac turned away.

Another piece of foam.

Courf really could not help it though. The letter was so sweet and simple, he couldn’t help but pour over it again and again.

It read:

_Dear Courfeyrac,_

_I know your first name is Miguel but my friend Enjolras and I prefer to refer to each other by our surnames (meaning you can call me Combeferre). You may call me Taran if you want. I’m just going to call you Courfeyrac, as long as that’s alright with you._

_As for your very important questions, I think chickens are actually very beneficial to human life. I mean, they provide a great source of protein for vegetarians like me with their eggs so I can’t really complain._

_We have a lot of pigeons in Paris. Most people don’t like them much, but I think they’re okay company when Enjolras isn’t around._

_As for frogs, I happen to like them very much. Did you know all frogs are pansexual? That means they mate with anyone regardless of gender or sex. How can frogs be more advanced than humans? It’s very fascinating._

_However, my favorite creatures are the moths. I think moths have a bad reputation, one they don’t deserve. Do you like moths?_

_Also, my favorite color is blue. Funny how we both chose primary colors! Do you know anyone whose favorite color is green?_

_Since you provided me with some family backstory, here’s mine. My father is French and my mother is Indian. So we’re pretty similar in that regard. Taran is an Indian name._

_I look forward to our next correspondence._

_Sincerely,_

_Taran Combeferre_

Courfeyrac sighed aloud. The letter made him feel all kinds of funniness in his tummy. Like warm blue butterflies—no, _moths_ —were spinning and swirling and doing a figure-8 in his abdomen.

“I am agog, I am aghast!” Xavier tumbled off the bed to face Courfeyrac. “Is Courfeyrac in _love at last?_ ”

“I’m not in love! Jeez, you’re so weird.” Courfeyrac slapped his friend’s hand away.

He knew that there was nothing wrong with a boy liking a boy. But he couldn’t right? He wasn’t…gay?

And even if he was, he’d only spoken to Combeferre once. Can people really fall in love so fast?

No. Definitely not.

Courfeyrac glanced at the letter once again and frowned.

The moths hadn’t gone away. If he was being honest, they were already laying eggs and multiplying.

Luckily, Courfeyrac is an excellent liar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are back for another chapter with our beloved bespectacled boy: 'Ferre!
> 
> Also, just a reminder, Xavier is Grantaire. Sometimes I forget that, so I thought I'd just put that out there.
> 
> Remember, if you have any questions, you can comment them and I'd be happy to answer!
> 
> Kudos and comments give me life! Enjoy!

“Ugh. This Xavier is working my _last nerve_ , I tell you. I can’t even think straight when I receive something from him.” Enjolras plopped down beside Combeferre, his famous scowl curling on his porcelain lips. “I was foolish to think that Americans are capable of intellectual conversations.”

Combeferre bit his lip, and offered his friend a sympathetic smile. Usually, he and Enjolras experienced the same things at the same time, making it easy to empathize with his best friend. But this time he couldn’t relate one bit to what Enjolras was feeling.

“Come now,” he tried. “You _do_ enjoy a good debate. And maybe it’ll challenge you to think more now that you’re talking to someone who doesn’t agree with every word that comes out of your mouth. Perhaps you can change his mind? Or use his arguments to strengthen your own?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, glowering as he always did. A smiling Enjolras was, in fact, a rare sight, even in captivity. In the wild it was practically impossible.

“I suppose.” Enjolras accepted begrudgingly. “Although you should know that not all of us struck jackpot with our pen-pals like you, ‘Ferre. Not every American is like your Courfeyrac.”

_My Courfeyrac._ The thought brought a flush to Combeferre’s cheeks. It was true, he was extremely lucky to be writing to Courfeyrac, who was the sweetest person Combeferre had known in a long time. He was funny, and his letters never failed to bring a wide grin to Combeferre’s face. He tolerated Combeferre’s ramblings about science and animals. He even asked questions and found facts of his own to share with 'Ferre. Everytime his teacher would hand him a bright yellow envelope (Courfeyrac’s favorite color, the color of sunshine), Combeferre could feel acrobats from the Cirque du Soleil dancing and doing flips in his stomach. He had removed everything else from his bulletin board, pinning up all his letters instead. The bulletin board was reserved only for Courfeyrac.

There were many days when the bespectacled boy would wonder if Courfeyrac would still want to talk to him if he saw him. He imagined how Courfeyrac must look. Smallish, and lanky. No, wiry was a better word. With freckles dancing across his cheeks like stars. Combeferre wondered what shapes he’d find if he connected the dots.

_Stop it. He’s your friend. Your only other friend besides E. Don’t ruin this. You may never find it again._

“Taran? I mean, Combeferre?”

Combeferre looked up to see his teacher waving him over.

He spotted out of the corner of his eye a sunny yellow envelope and a box in his teacher’s hand.

“Look at this! Miguel sent you something. What did I tell you? This pen-pal program is really bringing you out of your shell!”

Combeferre’s eyes widened in pure shock. His hands trembled as his fingers closed around the crudely packed package.

“ _Merci_ , Monsieur.” He whispered quickly, hurrying over to Enjolras.

“What is it? Is it from Courfeyrac?” Enjolras hissed.

“I think so.”

Combeferre picked off the note from the package. It read:

_To my favorite Moth Boy_

_(Also the only Moth Boy I know)_

_Happy Early Birthday!_

_Sincerely,_

_Courf_

_P.S. My hands are cramping from writing so many letters. Here’s my email: @PrinceMiggy@gmail.com (My friend Xavier made it for me when I was like, 9 okay. Don’t judge. I’m too lazy to change it._ _J)_

Enjolras let out a low whistle. “He’s a monarchist.” He muttered nonchalantly.

“Seriously, E?” Combeferre rolled his eyes.

Enjolras shrugged. “Prince is in his username. He’s a monarchist.”

“He is _not_ a monarchist.”

“Have you asked him if he’s a monarchist?”

“Well…no…”

“Voila! You have no proof, therefore he must be a monarchist.”

“Oh my God, E.”

“I’m actually atheist and I thought you were too.”

Combeferre groaned and ran the pads of his thumbs over the package in his hand.

Enjolras leaned over his shoulder. “Open it!”

“Okay,” Combeferre drew in a sharp breath and tore open the package.

It was a book.

It was a very big book.

It was a very big and very pretty book entitled: _From Caterpillars to Cocoons: A Guide to the Secret World of Moths._

Combeferre swallowed, letting out a tiny whimper.

What. Was. Happening?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is basically 600 words of Courf pining. I promised an update today, so I'll deliver, but this isn't as great as the other chapters. Sorry!
> 
> There is a time skip though. The previous chapters were all in sixth grade, so all the characters were 11-12 years old. Now they're graduating from eighth grade and are 13-14.
> 
> If anyone wants details on Xavier's switch from his given name to his surname, I'd be happy to share. Just comment down below! (I stalk my inbox, so I can get an answer to you pretty quickly).
> 
> Other than that, it's just another chapter. Enjoy!
> 
> PS the emails are NOT REAL so don't try the links

_To:[paspapillons@gmail.com](mailto:paspapillons@gmail.com)  
From: [PrinceMiggy@gmail.com](mailto:PrinceMiggy@gmail.com)_

_Yo, I can’t believe we’re graduating middle school today. What’re your plans for high-school? Also, can you believe we’re graduating ON THE SAME DAY?????? Like, is that fate or what?_

_Okay mi mama is yelling at me to get ready. Please. Like I’m going to get dressed for graduation. Do you think they’d dress-code me if I showed up butt-naked?_

_Goddammit. She’s bringing out the ruler. Pray for me._

_Hasta luego!_

_~ Courf_

Courfeyrac vaulted off the bed after shooting off an email to Combeferre. Even after (barely) passing Madame Rousseau’s class, the two had managed to keep in touch. Okay, ‘keep in touch’ was an understatement. Courfeyrac emailed his French friend whom he’d recently given the endearment ‘Ferre’ practically every day.

Which did nothing to help the jitters in his stomach he got whenever he thought about Combeferre. He’d asked his mother two years ago what they meant. She simply beamed at him, pulling him close to her chest and cried, “Oh m’ijo! You’re in love!” and then she went on a thirty minute tangent on how lovely it was to be “young and in love”.

Well, as someone who was young and (according to literally everyone in his life) in love, it wasn’t lovely at all.

He couldn’t go a day without daydreaming about meeting Combeferre for the first time, whether his hair would be fine and straight, or his scalp would be adorned by a crown of dark curls. Whether his arms were lean and long, perfect to wrap around Courf—I mean, his chosen partner who doesn’t have to be Courfeyrac but could possibly be Courfeyrac but who probably won’t be Courfeyrac but who _should_ be Courfeyrac but—never mind. As can be seen, his search history on his laptop may have the words “handsome Indian teen boy” _way_ more than it should.

According to Xavier who was now going by Grantaire after his parents got divorced, he “could probably jerk off to Nerd Boy doing a lecture on a dead caterpillar”. It was probably true.

Courfeyrac smirked thinking about his best friend who was obviously in the same situation as Courfeyrac: absolutely enamored with his pen-pal.

Though the two appeared to detest one another, Combeferre’s friend Enjolras and Grantaire also kept in touch for the past two years and if Courfeyrac had to hear “he writes in fucking _cursive_ , dude. Cursive! Even his fucking handwriting is godly” one more time, Courfeyrac might explode.

Not that he was any better.

“Yo!”

Courfeyrac’s head snapped up to see Grantaire sliding in through his open bedroom window. He grinned widely.

“‘Sup?” Courf asked clasping his friend’s hand.

“Well, I received another letter from Apollo. So. I feel like shit, but hey! At least he’s still talking to me!”

Courfeyrac shook his head, chuckling. “You’ve never even seen him before, how do you know he’s an ‘Apollo’? He could be like, super short and have a donkey’s butt for a face. Hey! Kinda like you!”

“Fuck you, Courf.” Grantaire laughed. “I’m telling you, he’s a literal god. His hair is probably like, made of gold or some shit like that.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever, dude.”

“So,” Grantaire started, “what’s new with Moth Boy?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Sent him an email earlier. No response yet.”

“Well, we gotta go to the hellhole. Sorry, school. _Vamos._ ” Grantaire claps him on the back and heads toward the door calling: “I hope your _mama_ made breakfast because I didn’t eat anything before I came here!”

Courfeyrac smiled and opened his laptop one more time.

_Inbox (1)_

Yes.

_To:[PrinceMiggy@gmail.com](mailto:PrinceMiggy@gmail.com)  
From: [paspapillons@gmail.com](mailto:paspapillons@gmail.com)_

_I wish I was graduating today. My father was just checked into the hospital. They think he’s having a heart attack._

_We don’t know if he’s going to make it._

_I’m scared, Courf. I’m terrified._

_What’s going to happen now?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okeeeee.....
> 
> I am SO SORRY that the update is so late! I had been doing daily chapters, but I kinda got stressed so I decided to take a break. I was trying to write but nothing felt right. But I got inspiration today, so we're good!
> 
> This chapter's particularly angst heavy, but the next one will be full of fluff!
> 
> Here's a cultural notice: Chamo means "bro" or "dude" in Venezuela, so I wanted to add that here because I thought I was whitewashing Courf a bit which I HATE doing to characters. :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to leave a kudos or a comment! They make me so frickin happy you guys have no idea.
> 
> Thank you to Get_below_my_line_of_vison who is super supportive and I really hope you like this next installment!

Combeferre paced the long white corridors of the hospital, his breath quickening with every step. Tears pricked behind his eyes. Hadn’t he cried enough? Hadn’t this entire day simply been a test of how much the river of his eyes could gush, eroding his darkened cheeks until there wasn’t a drop left? Why couldn’t this be over?

He should be graduating today. It’s a selfish thought, he knows. But he’d dreamed of this day for so long along with his high-school graduation. He’d be standing next to Enjolras who’d hold his hand tightly as they waited for their names to be called. The two of them would immediately sneak off to the little shed off the banks of the Seine and plan the next step of their revolution (read: Combeferre would do the planning, Enjolras would stand on a rickety soap box and scream about Patria for about 5 hours). Then, and this was a new addition, he would finally ask Courfeyrac for his phone number and the two of them would celebrate late into the night. They would celebrate both of their graduations. The two of them would be moving along to high-school _together._ Almost like their paths were always meant to be interwoven.

_Stop that,_ Combeferre scolded himself. His father was on his _deathbed_ and here he was fantasizing about Courfeyrac. He was such a horrible son. A disappointment. What did Courfeyrac see in him, anyway?

_He’s sticking around because he pities you. Same as Enjolras. Same as anyone who you’ve ever talked to._

Combeferre swallowed a sob, letting loose a lone whimper. He looked over to the room his father was lying in. The pale curtains were drawn tight, marring his view. He couldn’t go back in there. He couldn’t bear to see his father, his oldest and best teacher, his closest friend collapsed and lifeless. His heart panged with guilt and sorrow. All he wanted to do was lie down in a ditch and bury himself. To wake up when this was all over.

He considered sending an email to Courfeyrac, but thought better of it. His friend deserved to enjoy hid freedom from the hell that is middle school and it wasn’t Combeferre’s place to ruin it.

As if on cue, his phone pinged.

_Inbox (1)_

Combeferre bit his lip, almost swiping up to dismiss the notification, but instead clicked on it and opened it up.

_To:[paspapillons@gmail.com](mailto:paspapillons@gmail.com)_

_From:[PrinceMiggy@gmail.com](mailto:PrinceMiggy@gmail.com)_

_CHAMO! I’m so so so so so sorry about not responding earlier. It took me forever to get away from the teachers. We’re having the graduation ceremony now, awards and shit, so I can talk quickly. Are you feeling ok? Do you need anything? Like, emotional support? Ahhh if only I was there with you, I’d give you a hug or something. How are you doing rn?_

_~ Courf_

Combeferre almost let out a strangled sob at this. Should he respond?

He bit his lip once again as his trembling fingers typed out a reply.

_To:[PrinceMiggy@gmail.com](mailto:PrinceMiggy@gmail.com)_

_From:[paspapillons@gmail.com](mailto:paspapillons@gmail.com)_

_You shouldn’t be emailing me. You should be enjoying your ceremony._

Courfeyrac’s reply comes instantly.

_To:[paspapillons@gmail.com](mailto:paspapillons@gmail.com)_

_From:[PrinceMiggy@gmail.com](mailto:PrinceMiggy@gmail.com)_

_Are you effing kidding me, bro? You are a thousand times more important. Hold up, lemme give you my number. Call me, yeah? ***-***-****_

Combeferre gasped.

_You are a thousand times more important._

He smiled.

_You are a thousand times more important._

The bespectacled boy eagerly punched the number into the keypad on his phone and waited through the ringtone.

His breath hitched as he heard the other line pick up.

“Hello?”

Shit. He was completely and totally gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be fluffy.... but then my PC restarted deleting all my progress and put me in a sour mood. Now we have this.
> 
> It's angsty and pretty shitty ngl, and Get_below_my_line_of_vision deserves better but here: I hope you enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I love y'all!

“Hello?”

Courfeyrac bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation. It was him, wasn’t it? Combeferre was **_calling him_**. Granted, Courfeyrac did tell him to, but that wasn’t the point! He was finally going to talk to the boy he’d harbored a crush on since sixth grade!

It had taken Courfeyrac a while to get used to the idea that he liked Combeferre. He knew that his family would be accepting, his mom would at least. But after a long while of liking girls (and liking girls a bit _too_ much) the sudden burst of emotions he felt whenever Combeferre’s name even just flitted into his thoughts for a brief second was foreign territory. There were many, _many_ records of crying sessions and lamenting on the toilet to himself about this new development as if he was starring in one of his mom’s _telenovelas._ No really, there were actual recordings. Courfeyrac loved his mother to death, but she really did not know the meaning of privacy.

He was never going to live that one particular video of him down. (The one where he wrote a three part mini-opera about Combeferre, his sudden bisexuality, and the fact that he was going to die alone).

But with the help of Grantaire, who had his own little (read: VERY VERY BIG) crush on another certain French boy, Courfeyrac had learned to accept himself for who he was and it was a good thing too. Because right now, nothing mattered more than to make sure Combeferre was doing okay.

“Um, hi. Is this Courfeyrac?”

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

Okay, no thirteen-almost-fourteen year old is allowed to have that kind of voice! It should be illegal.

Combeferre’’s voice was soft and…misty. That’s the only way Courfeyrac knew how to describe it. It was as if mist was curling around him, caressing his cheeks and ticking his heart. It was a symphony of clouds, gentle and paper thin, yet filling him up to the brim. With the lightest touch of a French accent, and earthy undertones that could only be described as Eastern and ethnic, Combeferre’s voice was the loveliest thing Courf had heard in his life.

Courfeyrac was done for.

“Um, hello? Oh! This must be a wrong number. Sorry!” he heard from the other line.

_Poopsicle._

“No!” Courfeyrac cried hastily, his voice coming out like a braying donkey with laryngitis. “No, it’s me. This is ‘Ferre, right?”

Courfeyrac could hear a breathy sigh of relief from the other line. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”

Was this guy serious? His father was literally dying in a hospital and he had the gall to ask how _Courf_ was doing? _Why is he so sweet?_

“I’m doing alright, but that’s not the point! How are you holding up?”

He detected a muffled sob, a sound that made every piece of his heart throb. He wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but he was absolutely certain in that moment that he never wanted to hear Combeferre make that sound ever again, if he could help it.

“‘Ferre?” he whispered.

“Everything hurts, Courf. I’m really scared.” Combeferre whimpered, pain crackling in his voice.

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow and set his jaw. “It’s okay to be scared. Being scared just means that you care a lot about your dad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But… but what if he _dies?_ I can’t…I don’t think I could keep living if he dies.”

“‘Ferre, listen to me. No matter what happens, your dad isn’t leaving you. He’s always going to be a part of you. Even if he passes, you and your mom are only going to have each other. She’s going to need you, ‘Ferre.”

Combeferre sighs. “You’re right. Things are just…really hard right now.”

Courfeyrac chuckles sadly. “You’re telling me. I can totally tell. No matter what, things are going to get better. Not magically. Not with a little _poof._ But they will. And in the meantime, I’m still here.”

“Yeah, you are. _Merci_ , Courf. I don’t think you know how much you mean to me. You are truly special, one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

_One of the best friends he’s ever had._

That’s good, right? It’s supposed to be good?

So why do those words make Courfeyrac feel so empty.

_Because he says you’re a friend, dumbass. You’ll never be anything but a friend to him._

“Backatcha.” Courfeyrac whispers hoarsely.

“Hey Courf? Since we’re friends, can I ask you a weird question?”

“Yeah, sure. Shoot.”

“I’m friends with this person, and I haven’t really spoken to them a lot, but I’m pretty sure I’m in love with them. Is that wrong? What if they don’t feel the same way?”

Oh. Of course.

Courf swallowed, trying to keep himself together. It was so stupid of him to think he had a chance with Combeferre, especially since the two of them had never even _seen_ each other before. He tried desperately to keep the tears that pricked at the back of his eyes concealed. The last thing he needed was for Combeferre to be worried about him on top of everything else.

“It’s not wrong. If they make you happy, it’s okay to like them.”

Combeferre let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Courf mumbled.

“I want to hug you really bad right now.” Combeferre laughs quietly. “Oh, my mom’s calling me right now. I have to go. We’ll talk later, yes?”

Courfeyrac nods before realizing that Combeferre can’t see him. “Yeah, for sure. Bye.”

With that the call ends, and Courf’s heart shatters.

Suddenly someone is crawling underneath the bleachers as well, close to him.

“R?” he asks.

A lively chirping laughter arises from next to him. He turns to face the sound and sees a girl with auburn waves and caramel eyes, light freckles dusting her cheeks.

“No. I’m Azelma.” The girl extends her hand out to shake. Courfeyrac accepts it and tries to piece together a smile.

“Courfeyrac.” He offers.

She cocks her head to the side. “You go by your last name? Cool!”

Courf sighs. “Yep.”

“You should be glad you’re down here, the Principal is just droning on about responsibility as high-schoolers or whatever. I’m just like, ‘Hello? No one here cares! Can we move along, _s’il vous plait?_ ’ I wanna learn stuff _about_ high-school, specifically how to get laid.”

Courfeyrac laughs despite himself. This Azelma was pretty funny, he had to give her that. She was pretty, too, and she was looking at him a little weirdly. There was silence between them for a bit, then she spoke up.

“You’re pretty cute, y’know. Have a girlfriend?”

Courfeyrac felt color rush up to his cheeks, bouquets of roses blooming on both sides. “N-no. Not really.”

“Cool! Wanna go out sometime? Like, for a coffee or to the skate park?” Azelma brightened.

Okay.

Well.

Um.

Wow.

Was Azelma pretty? Yes. Very.

Was she fun to be around? From what he could tell, yes.

Was this good timing? No. 100% no.

Wait… _yes._

He could finally get over Combeferre, maybe erase this sudden bisexual phase that had come upon him for good! Yes, this was perfect.

“Coffee sounds awesome. When should I pick you up?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew boy... I really have not updated this in forever.
> 
> But we're back! I was suddeny inspired, and now the plot is moving forward. This is more of a filler chapter with a TIME SKIP, but the ball will be rolling next chapter. I promise!
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support. I love you so much! You make my writing possible.
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> Also, can someone tell me if Courferre Week is still a thing? I don't have a tumblr so I'm not in the loop. If it is still a thing... when is it? Thanks!

**_Courf: Buenos dias moth boy!_ **

_Me: You forgot to capitalize again, Courf_

**_Courf: Aw, c’mon. At least I put “proper punctuation”_ **

_Me: Hmm… not quite. You forgot a comma._

**_Courf: Again?? Srsly???_ **

_Me: Yep._

**_Courf: Aw shit I gtg pick up Azelma. Ttyl?_ **

_Me: Of course! Have a great day!_

**_Courf: Awww aren’t u sweet ;)_ **

**_Courf: Byeeeeee_ **

_Me: Bye_

Combeferre typed out the last message with a smile. Texting Courfeyrac was something he looked forward to every morning, something that could be his even if the boy himself wasn’t.

So many things had changed in the past three years. Both he and Courfeyrac were now in their third year of high school, or ‘junior year’ according to Courfeyrac, and things were looking up. Combeferre’s father had passed away the night of their first call which dealt a huge blow to the family, but his mother was nothing if not strong and continued to provide for the two of them. Combeferre himself had found several internships and small jobs to do afterschool.

His and Enjolras’s activism hadn’t stopped either. The two of them planned rallies, protests, and led meetings all over Paris. Courfeyrac had actually attended some of these meetings via FaceTime along with Grantaire. And say what you will about Grantaire, but the artist often had a few notes about how the meetings were run, most of which were helpful. A few were pretty much: “The words were nice and all, but can they all be said by that golden-haired Adonis over there? I feel like a lot more people would listen that way.”

Grantaire’s crush on Enjolras was evident to literally everyone besides Enjolras himself, and it was clear to Combeferre that his friend felt the same way. It was only a matter of time before the two of them figured it out and started dating.

Meanwhile, Combeferre’s own infatuation with Courfeyrac had only grown. The two of them had started to FaceTime regularly, and how was it possible that the American boy was even lovelier than Combeferre had expected?

He had dark freckles that danced across his sunkissed skin, and chestnut curls that made Combeferre’s fingers just itch to sift through. His smile was lopsided and goofy, revealing glimmering pearly teeth, and his laugh was sweeter than any music. And those _eyes._ They were like smooth kaleidoscopic crystals, shifting and changing color. The only thing that was constant about them were the gold flecks within his irises.

But Courfeyrac wasn’t his. And Courfeyrac could never be his. That hurt more than Combeferre wanted to admit. Although, Courfeyrac seemed so happy and Azelma was a pretty girl.

He wanted nothing but happiness for his friend.

Combeferre grabbed his backpack and boarded the bus. He had started to take public transport to school, to save money.

Suddenly, his phone sounded.

**_E: ‘Ferre?_ **

_Me: Hey Enj._

**_E: Are you currently on the bus?_ **

_Me: Yes. Why? Did you need something?_

**_E: Not really. I was hoping you were still at home though. I need help. Serious help._ **

_Me: What’s going on?_

**_E: Grantaire just told me he likes me._ **

Combeferre grinned, knowing exactly how his friend would react.

_Me: Finally!_

**_E: What? No, he LIKES me._ **

_Me: Yeah, Enjolras. I know he does. Everyone knows that he does except for you._

**_E: I highly doubt this. Is this a capitalist joke?_ **

_Me: Enjolras, you can’t just use capitalism as an excuse for everything. What does capitalism have to do with Grantaire admitting his feelings for you, anyway?_

**_E: It’s a defense mechanism, ‘Ferre. Do try to keep up._ **

_Me: Okay, E. Whatever you say._

**_E: So what do I say back?_ **

_Me: I don’t know! Do you like him?_

**_E: …_ **

**_E: Yes._ **

**_E: …_ **

**_E: very much so…_ **

_Me: Yeah, I figured. Just tell him that then. He’s probably really nervous right now. Go! Tell him._

**_E: Thanks, ‘Ferre._ **

**_E: So… when’re you going to tell Courfeyrac?_ **

_Me: Tell Courf what?_

**_E: Glad to know I’m not the only oblivious one in this friendship._ **

_Me: He doesn’t like me, E. He has a girlfriend._

**_E: Ah, yes. I forgot about that._ **

**_E: Oh wait! That reminds me. Courfeyrac called me this morning. He’s bringing his girlfriend to the meeting today. I promised him you’d help show her the ropes. Is that alright?_ **

Combeferre fought the urge to throw the phone across the bus. He wanted nothing more than to punch Enjolras in his Marxist face.

_Me: Yeah, sure. No problem._

**_E: Great! See you at school._ **

_Me: Bye_

Combeferre leaned his head against the window, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

He thought that even if Courfeyrac couldn’t be his, they still had _something._ But now he knew.

No matter what, he would always be second to Azelma in Courf’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... sorry. 'Ferre deserves better, I know.
> 
> But they'll be okay soon!
> 
> Maybe.
> 
> We'll see ;)
> 
> Hey.... at least Enjoltaire is coming together!
> 
> Toss me kudos or a comment, will ya?


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't stop, my dudes. I could not stop.
> 
> To make up for lost time, here's another chapter for ya! Will the boys finally get their shit together???
> 
> Maybe..... (slow burn who?)
> 
> I will see you in the comments! (hopefully <3)
> 
> PS: To Get_below_my_line_of_vision- this chapter isn't as funny as the others, but I hope the upload cheers you up anyway. Love ya!

“Don’t worry, Combeferre agreed to it. He said he’d personally show Azelma the ropes and everything.” Came Enjolras’s voice through the phone.

Courfeyrac’s eyes widened. “You _told_ him?”

“Yes? I don’t know if you know this about Combeferre, but he likes to be notified about such things _before_ they happen.”

Courfeyrac slapped himself in the face. “Yeah, I know, Enjolras. But… dammit. _I_ needed to tell him, he’s going to get the wrong idea and…”

“What wrong idea?”

Courfeyrac looked up. “Huh?”

“What wrong idea is Combeferre going to get? No wonder America isn’t functioning, no one there can actually communicate!”

Courfeyrac worried at his lip. “I just don’t want Combeferre to misunderstand the situation.”

Enjolras’s sigh was audible. “What exactly _is_ the situation, Courfeyrac?”

“I don’t know, man.” Courfeyrac flopped against his bed, exasperated. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Well, what’s done is done. Combeferre seemed fine in school today, if a little distant. Do you want me to relay a message?”

Courfeyrac shook his head, although Enjolras couldn’t see him. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just wait for R and ‘Zelma to get here and we’ll join the Zoom call.”

“Okay, Courfeyrac. I trust your judgement. But please, for Combeferre’s sake, if something is going on, you should tell him.”

Courfeyrac forced a dry chuckle. “Yeah, of course. See you later, Enjolras.”

The freckled teen ended the call with a groan. None of this was right. He was supposed to be waiting just for R. The two of them would huddle together and log on to FaceTime or Zoom, waiting for Combeferre to pick up. Eventually, Grantaire would get fed up and log in on a different device so he could personally call out (read: fangirl over) Enjolras, leaving Courfeyrac and Combeferre to share time together privately. The two of them always got distracted during the meetings, at least Courfeyrac did.

How could he not? Combeferre was everything he’d pictured and more, what with his chocolate skin and perfectly tousled hair, his warm blackish-brown eyes and breathy chuckle. Courfeyrac didn’t stand a chance anymore.

Azelma was lovely, he supposed. He hated to lead her on, but she was so invested. He had planned to end things with her soon, maybe work up the courage to tell ‘Ferre how he felt someday.

But that seemed so impossible now. And it was all his fault.

Azelma had come over on a meeting night last week. Not wanting to blow her off, Courfeyrac let her wait in his room along with R. After the meeting, Azelma had asked if she could attend the next one. It made Courfeyrac’s heart sink a bit. Les Amis meetings were some of the only times he could just be with Combeferre for a bit. That’s all he really wanted, anyway. But he knew, because it had almost happened so many times, that if he refused, Azelma would know about his feelings for ‘Ferre.

So yes, he called Enjolras asking if Azelma could attend the next meeting. When Enjolras said yes, Azelma had asked if someone could help her out through the night, just so she could figure out the ropes.

Courfeyrac had told her that he’d ask Combeferre. _He_ wanted to ask ‘Ferre because he knew, he _knew,_ that bad things would happen if he didn’t. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Combeferre would never be his now.

Suddenly, his phone went off. Azelma.

“Hey babe!” she chirped on the other line.

“Hey,” he tried to respond with equal enthusiasm, his heart plummeting further with every solemn second.

“So, I can’t come over today. But I _can_ join from my house. Your friend sent me the ID. What’s his name? Started with a ‘C’.”

“Combeferre.” Courfeyrac breathed.

“Yeah, that’s him. Anyway, I’ll see you in a bit!”

Courfeyrac stifled a sob before joining the Zoom call. Combeferre’s face was illuminated on the phone screen, intently focused on writing the minutes for that meeting.

Courfeyrac had never felt so much anxiety in his life.

“‘Ferre?” he murmured softly. Combeferre looked up and gave him a clearly forced smile. A tremor went through Courfeyrac’s body.

“Hey Courf.” The other teen greeted him.

“‘Ferre, please. I’m really sorry.”

“What’re you sorry about, sweetie?”

Courfeyrac looked up to see Azelma joining the call. He plastered a grin on his face. It felt so fake.

“Oh. Hey… you.”

She smiled back at him and blew a kiss. Then, glancing to her left, she began to address Combeferre. “So, what do you guys do here?”

“We’re a social justice group.” Combeferre said flatly, ice grinding in his voice. “Didn’t Courfeyrac give you the pamphlet? I sent it to him earlier today.”

“Um…” That was a lie. Combeferre had spoken to him all day, let alone sent him a pamphlet! Why would he lie?

“No matter. You can read it after the meeting is over.”

“Okay!” Azelma smiled.

Suddenly Enjolras’s face filled the screen. “Okay! I’ve officially _had it_ with you two. You’re worse than R and I honestly have no clue how that’s even possible, but I’m sending you both to a Breakout Room… once I figure out how… and you are _staying there_ until you figure shit out!”

R’s voice could be heard in the background. He must’ve joined on FaceTime. “So what you’re telling me is… they’re never leaving the breakout room?”

“Shut up, R!” Enjolras called back.

“Hey. Love me, love my helpful observations.”

“R!” Enjolras hissed. He’d suddenly gone beet red.

So it was true, the two of them were together now.

Suddenly, Courfeyrac was being pulled into a breakout room and was placed face-to-face with Combeferre.

The bespectacled teen in front of sighed exasperatedly. “I don’t think Enjolras knows that I could leave if I wanted to. I’m still the host.”

Courfeyrac bit his lip harshly, drawing a dab of blood. “But you won’t, will you?”

Combeferre locked eyes with him. “What do you want me to do, Courf? You were the one who wanted me to help your girlfriend instead of spending time together… why aren’t you fighting to leave?”

Courfeyrac let a singular sob escape his lips. “I can’t _do_ this anymore, ‘Ferre. Azelma’s great but… I can’t go on like this.”

“What are you talking about, Courf?”

A sudden pressure built up inside of Courfeyrac. He knew why Enjolras locked them in here. And he knew what he had to say. It hurt to think that now he’d lose Combeferre, but he couldn’t lie to himself anymore.

“Courf? What’s going on?”

He was a volcano, slowly building up until it was time to completely burst.

“Courf!”

Eruption.

**_“I fucking love you, okay?”_ **


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okayyyy Chapter 10! VERY IMPORTANT STUFF IS GOING DOWN!
> 
> On a side note, after this I am starting a new project and I will be dropping hints as to what it is each following chapter. I dunno, I just thought it might be fun to do a guessing game with y'all! You can start guessing in the comments.
> 
> So yeah. Hint #1: Modern Setting... but with ancient elements
> 
> I know right? SUCH a great hint ;)
> 
> Welp. I'll see you in the comments (hopefully)! Love you all <3

Combeferre swallowed deeply, certain he’d heard incorrectly. “What?” he squeaked, his voice sounding suddenly five octaves higher.

Courfeyrac was visibly shaking on the screen in front of him, head buried in his hands. Nothing but sobs escaped his coral lips.

“Courf…” Combeferre wanted to say something, but his throat constricted into knots, strangling any sound.

“I love you.” Courfeyrac suddenly stated, locking eyes with Combeferre. His multicolored eyes fixed on him, unwavering in their position. “And I’m sorry.”

“What…” Combeferre hid his face with his palms in order to conceal the flame that had quickly risen to his cheeks.

Was this true? Or was Courfeyrac lying to him? No, he wouldn’t lie. _Would he?_

Combeferre’s heart yearned to hope, to believe that Courfeyrac loved him the way he loved Courfeyrac, but it couldn’t be. He had a girlfriend, for one. And the two of them often told one another that they loved each other as a form of farewell.

So… Courf was just using this as a buffer. To save their friendship.

Because this was all they had, all they could ever have.

Combefere bit back tears, instead focusing his attention to the boy in front of him. “I know you love me, but that doesn’t mean you lead me on and you… you don’t even bother to communicate… or… or anything, really! If you don’t want to stay friends… then that’s fine. Just say so.”

Did he believe what he was saying? Maybe, maybe not. He was too blind with guilt and grief and rage to care.

He heard a faint whimper from Courfeyrac’s screen. “Friends. Yeah… yeah, of course. I mean, of course I want to… stay friends.” The boy swallowed down hard then let go of a shaky breath.

“Courfeyrac, there’s something wrong. _Please_ tell me what’s going on. I don’t like being angry with you… I honestly don’t know what I’m angry at… but I know that I hate seeing you like this.”

“Stop.” The freckled boy sobbed. “Please, stop _caring_ so much.”

Combeferre let out a mirthless laugh. “ _Stop_ caring? How can I stop caring about you? You are the most important thing in my life, Courfeyrac. You make me feel wanted and loved and special. You make me feel like one day I can amount to something. Like I can travel the world and help people to not face the same end as my father. You were _there_ for me when my father died! You literally attended his funeral on FaceTime and sang ‘Gangnam Style’, unironically mind you, just to make me laugh. You asked to attend Les Amis meetings and I couldn’t refuse. You quickly became my favorite distraction and always seemed to know when I was stressed. How… how could I stop caring about someone like that?”

Courfeyrac just stared at him, his freckled cheeks flushed and his stunning eyes pooling with something Combeferre couldn’t trace. Then he opened his mouth slightly, and spoke in a whisper-like tone, almost as if he was afraid to speak. No, more like he was afraid to hear himself.

“You can’t stop caring about anyone, ‘Ferre. You’re kind and generous and patient. You put up with my antics and let me be as crazy as I need to be, but somehow you still see through my walls and you’re able to reach me. You are the reason I feel comfortable being me, and for that I am _so_ grateful.”

Courfeyrac paused for a second then inhaled deeply. “I love you, ‘Ferre. Not in a friend-ish way, but like, romantically. I really, _really_ love you and… that’s why…” the boy trailed off, leaving ‘Ferre speechless.

“You love me?” he murmured. Courf nodded, unable to meet his eyes.

“But, what about… what about Azelma?” Combeferre demanded.

Courfeyrac’s face flushed even more furiously. “…she was originally just an attempt… to get over you.”

Combeferre frowned. “That’s not right of you to lead her on.”

Courfeyrac groaned. “I _know._ And that’s why _I_ wanted to tell you about bringing her to the meeting! I wasn’t going to at first, but I felt guilty about the whole thing so I told her she could come. I wanted to tell you that I would bring her, and I wanted to ask you if you could give her a brief explanation of what Les Amis is all about. But then… I was going to tell you that I planned on ending things with her. To stop this shit. I can’t _deal_ with it anymore, ‘Ferre. And now I’ve hurt you, you hate me, and I’m going to hurt Azelma too, then she’ll hate me, and I don’t even have R anymore because he’s too invested in his relationship with Enjolras: which, by the way, _no one_ told me about. I just want to die. That way this can all end.”

“No!” Combeferre’s voice sounded so different in his own ears, harsher and more defiant, like the thought of Courfeyrac dying was the single worst thing in the world.

_Maybe it was._

“I’m sorry for being petty. I just… I liked having that time with just you. During meetings, talking to you was one of my favorite things to do and… I didn’t want to lose that. I hated being second to Azelma. She’s lovely, but I just… I wanted to be yours. I still want that. I want to be the only barrier, the only person that matters in your eyes.” Combeferre whispered, knowing that every word was true.

Courfeyrac looked up at him. “You want to be mine? Like, friendship ‘mine’ or _rom-com level_ ‘mine’?”

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “What’s a rom-com?”

Courfeyrac drew in a sharp breath. “Okay, if this weren’t a super important moment in our relationship, I would be _severely_ offended.”

Combeferre smiled at the goofball on the screen, his heart panging with affection. “I love you, Courf. Romantically. I love you _so much._ ”

Courfeyrac looked up at him again, locking eyes with him. “Really?”

Combeferre nodded.

“Can I squeal?”

Combeferre laughed. “Go ahead.”

Courfeyrac let out a long high-pitched squeal, flopping out of his chair in the process. “I’m okay!”

The two of them met each other’s gaze once again, staring into each other’s eyes for a good five minutes before Courfeyrac spoke again.

“I _really_ wanna kiss you right now. Cover your lips, they’re too perfect.”

Combeferre smiled and obliged. “So, what do we do now?”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and smirked. “That depends, Moth Boy. Can I call you my boyfriend? Or do you want to skip the dating phase and just get married? I always thought dating was overrated anyway.”

Combeferre grinned. “Let’s start with dating, then we’ll see. How does that sound?”

Courf groaned. “You are hopeless. But it’s a start.”

Combeferre frowned for a second, remembering. “You still have to deal with Azelma.”

Courf frowned as well. “Yeah, I know. Or you could do it for me?”

Combeferre shook his head. “You have to own up to your actions. But what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t lend a hand?”

Courfeyrac squealed again. “I love you, ‘Ferre.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, it's not always angsty? Maybe they'll actually work it out this time!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Love ya to bits!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of the line, folks! Two more chapters to go!
> 
> Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. Would ya believe this was originally supposed to be a one-shot? Seems impossible now that I think about it. I love you all sososo much!
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> Now, for Hint #2 for my new project: It's an AU based on an iconic movie. There is an improv/theatre game based on said movie that focuses on moving according to a prompt.
> 
> Another glorious hint! (I suck at this stuff, why am I doing this?)
> 
> I look forward to reading your guesses. See ya in the comments (I hope)! <3

“Good morning!” Courfeyrac grinned into the phone as Combeferre lit up the screen, his dark brown hair perfect despite just having woken up.

“Morning, Courf.” His boyfriend let out a tiny chuckle, adjusting the glasses on his nose.

_Boyfriend._ If you asked Courfeyrac two years ago whether or not he believed that he could ever call Combeferre his boyfriend, you would have gotten a hard no. You would also have gotten a poem: “Combeferre (And Why He Doesn’t Deserve Me)” as well as an operatory hymn entitled “The True God Amongst Us (Spoiler Alert: He Wears Glasses)”. Needless to say, both of these are Courfeyrac Originals™.

After their heart-to-heart in which Courfeyrac spilled his guts, Combeferre had called to Enjolras, beckoning him to let them leave the Breakout Room. Courf had steeled himself, ready to talk to Azelma but she had merely smiled and said simply, “It’s alright. I know.”

They had left it at that, but were careful to avoid each other the rest of junior year and into senior year.

Now, Courfeyrac was about to be a freshman in college. He’d been accepted into the Academy of Art in San Francisco to study acting and musical theatre, in the hopes of starting an acting conservatory for younger kids once he finished up school. And the best part? Grantaire was going to the same school! They applied together so that neither of them would have to be alone. They even saved enough money for a tiny apartment where the two of them would stay for the next four years. They were supposed to leave in a week, and Courfeyrac was bouncing up and down, ecstatic. He’d always longed to go to California. It had been his favorite state for as long as he could remember!

The only drawback was the same drawback that had existed since two years ago: Combeferre was still an ocean away on the other side of the world.

It’s not like Courfeyrac wasn’t grateful for the relationship they’d been able to create, he was _super_ grateful. But all he really wanted to do was card his fingers through his boyfriend’s dark locks and kiss him senseless without a stupid screen in the way.

_Soon,_ he promised himself. _Soon we’ll be together. Just four more years._

It didn’t seem soon at all.

“Aw, why the long face?” Combeferre cooed through the screen, earning a giggle from Courfeyrac.

“I miss you.” The freckled youth whined.

“Miss me?” Combeferre smirked. “We talk every day, how could you miss me?”

Courfeyrac let out a long sigh. “I want to _see_ you. I want to hug you and kiss you— _definitely_ kiss you—and you know… go on ridiculously romantic dates and finally be free of this stupid, _stupid screen.”_

Combeferre’s smirk dissipated into a soft smile. “Oh, Courf. You _know_ I want that too! Soon, okay?”

Courfeyrac collapsed on his bed. “But I don’t _want_ to wait _four fucking years_ , ‘Ferre.” Then, in a quieter voice, he added: “I love you.”

Combeferre’s smile widened. “I love you too. And I promise that when we meet each other for the first time, no matter how long that’ll take, I’m going to lift you up and kiss you so many times you won’t be able to breathe.”

Courfeyrac grinned. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His boyfriend replied, smiling with equal intensity. “I love you so much.”

Courf giggled once again, his cheeks pinking with affection. “Stop, you’re making me blush.”

“Aw, but you look so cute when you blush!”

“Ugh, ‘Ferre! You’re not supposed to flirt back! _How_ am I supposed to compete with that?”

Combeferre laughed at that then glanced upward, eyes widening. “Oleander hawk moths, look at the time! I gotta go, babe.”

Courfeyrac pouted. “Can I walk with you?”

Combeferre shook his head. “I’m meeting up with Enjolras right now.”

“Poopsicle.”

Combeferre smiled. “Watch your mouth, monsieur.”

“Says the nerd who uses _a fricking moth_ as an interjection!”

Combeferre blew him a kiss through the screen, and like usual, Courfeyrac pretended to catch it. “Love you!”

“Love you too, Moth Boy.”

The call ended and Courfeyrac clasped his hand over his mouth, touching his fingers to his lips, imagining what he felt Combeferre’s kisses would feel like.

“Soon,” he murmured to himself.

Suddenly his phone rang. It was Grantaire.

“Hey, R!” he greeted.

“Um, hey.” Came the reply.

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow. “What’s wrong?”

A sigh was audible on the other line. “Nothing… it’s just… I’m not going to the Academy.”

_“WHAT?”_ Courfeyrac practically screeched into the phone. All of their plans? Gone to waste? He was going to be _alone?_

“Yeah, um, I’m really sorry. I don’t wanna leave you alone, it’s just… things are shit at home and… I ust need to get away. _Far_ away. My mom is living in ‘Frisco and… I can’t deal with that right now.”

Rivers of rage threatened to break through Courfeyrac’s dams in torrents. “So, what? You’re going to leave me here? We were going to do this _together,_ that’s why we _applied here!”_

“I’m sorry, Courf! Okay? I got a scholarship to study abroad and honestly? That’s what I need right now. I need to leave, to figure shit out. I wanted to tell you…”

Courfeyrac sniffled, stifling tears. “A scholarship? R that’s… that’s amazing for you. Where’ll you be?”

There was silence for a little bit. “Paris.”

Courfeyrac’s heart shattered. “You… you’re going to… Paris?”

“Yeah. Um, I’m staying with Enjolras and stuff…”

Courfeyrac whimpered involuntarily. “Okay. Um, that’s… that’s great, R. You get to finally meet your boyfriend. And study in _Paris._ The City of…”

“Don’t pretend for me, Courf. I’m sorry. But I promise that I’ll meet Combeferre and I won’t shut up about you for a second, okay?”

Courf allowed himself a tiny smile. “Okay. I love you, R.”

“Ah, shit. You’re gonna make me _feel things._ ” Then, he added: “I love ya too.”

“Make sure when you’re in Paris, you tell Combeferre that I’m a _thousand times_ hotter in person than on camera, okay? I want him to not think he’s dating a night troll.”

“Will do, chamo. Will do.”

Courf smiled. _“Buena suerte,_ Xavier.”

He could practically hear Grantaire’s smile. _“Gracias,_ Miguel.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter upload this time. We're getting so close, you guys!
> 
> Again, I'm going to thank you all for your support especially xiamer and Get_below_my_line_of_vision. Y'all are so special and your comments turn me into a tomato. I love you guys so much!
> 
> Hint #3 for the next project: The movie of which the AU is based on starred Ben Stiller and Robin Williams, was directed by Shawn Levy, and included several other famous actors such as Dick Van Dyke.
> 
> I hope y'all start guessing, because the reveal is coming TOMORROW (or whenever I upload the final chapter next lmao)
> 
> See you in the comments (hopefully) <3

“E, I’m gonna be frank with you here. This is not a good look for you, sweet-cheeks.” Combeferre looked up to see Grantaire tutting at his boyfriend’s outfit.

Enjolras frowned at him. “One, don’t call me ‘sweet-cheeks’. Two, it’s a suit? It’s professional and appropriate for any circumstance.”

“No! It really isn’t! Babe, I’m saying this because I love you, but if you go out like that, I’m afraid I’m divorcing you.”

“We aren’t even married!”

“If you don’t see a future with me, _what_ is the point of all this?”

“Oh, you are incorrigible!”

“Hey. French Boy. English or Spanish, _por favor._ ”

“It _is_ English, you bastard!”

“Aw, already jumping to pet names are we?”

“Would you two stop it?!” Combeferre found himself growling, finally having had enough. As soon as Grantaire had arrived, Combeferre felt like he couldn’t even step into Enjolras’s flat (the very flat that they used to _share)_ without having to overhear their latest argument or to bear witness to their latest make-out session against the wall, neither of which were very pleasant and both made his heart ache.

Don’t misunderstand, he was absolutely thrilled that the two of them were not only dating, but could actually _be_ together. After all, Enjolras was his best friend and he wanted nothing but the best for him.

Unfortunately, seeing the two together made him long for something he didn’t have: the ability to hold his boyfriend close and kiss him good morning or good night.

And now they were both alone, on two different sides of the planet, an ocean away from one another.

Grantaire walked over to him, plopping down on the bed by his side and wrapping an arm around him. “You’re really lucky, you know. Courf is the fucking _best_ boyfriend you could ever have.”

Enjolras cleared his throat obnoxiously.

R rolled his eyes. “Apart from Monsieur le Pretentious Asshole over here.”

“You are never going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance, _mi amor._ ”

Combeferre shook his head. “I know I’m lucky. I’m so grateful to have him, it’s just… you know more than anyone how hard this is. And it’s not like I can just hop in the car or walk next door to visit him. We’re stuck like this. Separated.”

Enjolras sat beside Combeferre, sandwiching him between him and Grantaire. “I know it hurts, ‘Ferre. But at least you know his love for you isn’t going anywhere. It’s there in every text he types, every call he makes, every kiss he blows through the screen--”

“Every nude he sends.” Grantaire cut his boyfriend off with a smirk, leaving Combeferre turning beet red.

“R! Not helping, _at all.”_

Enjolras rolled his eyes, then turned back to ‘Ferre. “My _point_ is that Courfeyrac loves you no matter what! And that isn’t going to change, okay?”

Combeferre nodded before Grantaire spoke again.

“You know, ‘Ferre. There are some great medical schools in Cali.”

Combeferre’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I don’t have the money to go to America! Not nearly enough! Plus, how will I pay tuition?”

Grantaire chuckled. “Whaddaya think got me here? Scholarships, _hombre._ There’s no harm in applying, is there? As for the flight ticket, I think you’ll have to rely on our good friend Blondie over here and his sweet-ass trust fund.”

Enjolras fumed. “ _Don’t call me Blondie._ But, I suppose I could indulge, if just to spite my parents.”

“Alright, then!” Grantaire grinned. “We’re set.”

Combeferre gulped, then typed in _‘scholarships for med schools California’_ on his computer and gulped.

What. Was. Happening?


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY
> 
> This is it, my dudes. We're done. I hope you enjoyed following these boys as much as I did writing them. It was such a journey, and now I can finally say I finished my first multi-chaptered fic on AO3!
> 
> But really, this story will always be special to my heart. Thank you to Get_below, xiamer, iamwild, revolution_but_civilization, idle_participation, and everyone who supported me throughout all of this with your kudos, bookmarks, and comments. Let me tell you, I am now a tomato thanks to all of you.
> 
> I'm glad that I could contribute to this fandom, my favorite fandom, and I will see you soon in another fic (which I will announce at the end!)
> 
> See you in the comments (for the last time) <333

Courfeyrac groaned as he flopped down on his bed, exasperated. Exasperated with the world, with himself, and the fact that he was alone in San Francisco, far away from everyone who cared about him.

That wasn’t to say he wasn’t enjoying himself here on campus. No, he loved it. The classes were interesting and he’d already made a few friends, more like acquaintances. But the apartment was non-refundable and Courf had already paid for it, so it wasn’t like he could have a roommate or even stay in the dorms.

The freckled youth sighed deeply, turning over on his bed. He didn’t have classes the rest of the day and he intended to relax.

Suddenly, a phone call interrupted his thoughts.

It was R.

“I’m awake,” he pouted, rolling over to pick up the phone. “Wassup?”

“Don’t you sound bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?” came R’s sarcastic drawl on the other line.

“Fuck off.” Courf tried and failed to stifle a smile at the familiar crackle of his friend’s voice. “How’s _chez Paris?”_

“I don’t know how I’m surviving here, man. Like, if you ask someone if they speak English they like, turn up their noses at you and don’t even respond!” R’s annoyed groan was clearly audible.

Courf chuckled. “How’s Apollo? The God on earth? The fallen angel?”

Grantaire snorted. “Did I actually say that shit? I mean, it’s true… But yeah. He’s good. But, Courf, you and I both know you don’t give a damn about how Enjolras is doing.”

Courfeyrac’s cheeks flushed red. He could practically hear Grantaire’s coy smirk on the other line.

“Combeferre is doing great, he just got a scholarship to this really awesome med school. He won’t shut the fuck up about you though and I’m like, _‘Hombre,_ I’ve known this man since I was still sleeping in a crib. I _know_ how chaotic he is.’”

Courfeyrac let out a laugh. “I wish I could dish about you to Enjolras. You know, I should! I’m sure he’d enjoy the romantic saga that is Xavier and his Mami’s spicy salsa.”

“If you even _think_ about mentioning that to my boyfriend, I will send the Grim Reaper after your soul.”

“Ah, the Grim Reaper would be too humbled by my dashing good looks to dare to take my spirit.” Courfeyrac declared.

“Sure, sure.”

Courfeyrac sighed, his laughter diminishing. “So what school is ‘Ferre going to? It’s weird he didn’t tell me.”

Grantaire hesitated. “Uh, Enjolras has confiscated his phone. Says he talks to you too much.”

Courf frowned. “Okay?”

Suddenly, Grantaire cursed under his own breath.

Courfeyrac raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

“Your boyfriend is attacking me in every way he knows how. I mean, besides actually getting in here and screwing my brains out. He says I’m stealing you from him. He just called me a thief and is now threatening to call the French police on me.” Grantaire grumbled.

“Thought you said his phone is confiscated?” Courfeyrac asked, thoroughly confused.

“Um, gotta go. Talk later, yeah?” Grantaire mumbled hastily.

“Yeah, No problem.” Something strange was definitely going on. What wasn’t R telling him?

Courfeyrac opened up his messages to see a slew of texts from his boyfriend.

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Courf_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: COURF_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Oh my effing god, Courf_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Would you answer your texts?_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Ugh R is hogging you, isn’t he?_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: I’ll go yell at him_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Call me when you get this, yeah?_ **

**_The ‘Ferre-est of them all: Love you <3_ **

****

Courfeyrac grinned uninhibitedly and immediately pressed the button to FaceTime.

Combeferre’s face popped up on the screen. By the looks of it, he was somewhere outdoors.

“Finally.” He smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose in a way that made Courf’s heart do somersaults in his stomach.

“Hey!” Courf blew a kiss through the screen.

“Hey.” His boyfriend replied. “Could you help me? I’m hella lost out here.” Combeferre flipped his camera to show his surroundings, surroundings Courf couldn’t help but find familiar.

“Yeah, sure. Oh, hey! That tree looks like just the one outside my apartment!”

There was a pregnant silence as the words sunk in.

“Holy, shit. That _is_ the one outside my apartment, isn’t it?” Courfeyrac breathed, unable to think or feel anything besides the fact that Combeferre was _here._ They weren’t an ocean away, just barely moments away. They could _be together._ For _real.”_

Combeferre nodded and smiled adorably. “Surprise!”

Tears burst through Courfeyrac’s eyes, gushing from his sockets in droves, eroding his olive cheeks which hurt from being stretched so far from smiling. But he couldn’t stop, he didn’t _want_ to stop. He wanted to keep smiling for an eternity, until the sun swallowed the earth and all the chickens and frogs and pigeons and moths in the world disappeared in its wake.

“I’m coming out, okay?” He practically sobbed into the phone.

“Okay,” his boyfriend nodded. “See you soon.”

Courfeyrac’s heart panged with the fact that the words were _true._ He would see ‘Ferre soon.

As he stepped out of the apartment, his head darted around before his gaze landed upon a tall, dark-skinned man with mussed chocolate hair and thin-framed glasses standing barely 10 yards away.

A loving sob escaped his throat as he sprinted across the field to the tree he recognized and the youth there.

“‘Ferre!” he cried. The man turned to him, a grin overtaking his face.

“Oh my god.” The bespectacled youth choked back tears.

The two of them practically launched themselves into each other’s arms, clinging so tightly they hoped they’d never have to let go.

“You’re here.” Courfeyrac murmured into his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’m here.” He confirmed into Courf’s chestnut curls. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Courfeyrac muffled another sob into Combeferre’s flannel shirt. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” The smaller boy then stood on his tiptoes and tentatively threaded his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair like he’d always dreamed to and whimpered at the silkiness of it. Combeferre tilted the freckled youth’s chin up to lock eyes with him and whispered those four words that made Courfeyrac’s heart flutter in his ribcage:

“Can I kiss you?”

“Oh, please.” Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Do you even have to ask?”

Combeferre grinned and took Courfeyrac’s face in his hands, pulling him closer, himself leaning down. Courfeyrac closed his eyes, tilting his head up further and allowing Combeferre to connect their lips for the first time. The smaller boy sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck to pull him even closer. Combeferre pressed further, more insistently, almost begging for something else. The fact that they were here, now, doing this where anyone could see, could witness their love that couldn’t be destroyed no matter how hard the world threatened to keep them apart made Courfeyrac grin. Soon, Combeferre was grinning too and they were just smiling against each other’s lips.

“I love you.” Courfeyrac murmured, tugging on Combeferre’s sleeve.

“I love you too.” Combeferre pulled his boyfriend in for a warm embrace as he placed a chaste kiss to the side of his head.

After pulling apart, Courfeyrac laced their fingers together and began to pull Combeferre towards his—no, _their_ —apartment.

“C’mon. Let me take you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okee so I have three things:
> 
> 1\. Combeferre goes to UCSF which is a great med school in San Francisco. It's about 12 minutes from where Courf goes to school (just in case anyone was wondering)
> 
> 2\. This chapter, indeed this STORY, would not be possible without my courferre playlist which I can link below if anyone wants
> 
> 3\. Okay, my next fic is........ A Night at the Museum AU! It's called 'When shadow falls, would you love me?' (First chapter is out now!)

**Author's Note:**

> Notes-
> 
> +Courf is biracial (half Venezuelan and half French)  
> +Enjolras is white  
> +Grantaire is half Venezuelan too and he met Courf bc their moms hang out together. R is also half black  
> +Ferre is half French and half Desi (Indian)
> 
> If you have any other questions, feel free to ask! I want to make the Amis more racially diverse because as a creator recently stated, we no longer have need for white Amis.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Chicken scratches](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669439) by [Get_below_my_line_of_vision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision)
  * [World's biggest food fight in a teensy weensy café](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24634738) by [Get_below_my_line_of_vision](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision)




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